


Sliding Scale

by Jay Trent (Bluewolf458)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 02:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11819634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Jay%20Trent
Summary: Bodie has disappeared, leaving a letter of resignation...





	Sliding Scale

Sliding Scale

Jay Trent

Bodie thought he had never seen such a run-down hotel.

Admittedly, he wasn't a connoisseur of hotels; cheap B&Bs were more his line, or pubs that provided the odd - sometimes very odd - room; but over the years he had occasionally had to patronise a hotel and he had definitely never seen something calling itself a hotel so run down, even in Africa.

The room smelt stale and damp. The sheets on the single bed looked as if they would appreciate a good wash; the bed itself looked as if one fourteen-stone man lying on it would be too much for it, causing its legs to collapse in exhaustion under the weight.

At least it was unlikely that anyone would look for him here, and it would provide him with shelter for a few days till he could get in touch with one of his mercenary contacts.

Not that he particularly wanted to return to the merc life - but fighting was the only thing he was qualified to do, and leaving the country on a fake passport the only way he could avoid being traced.

He really, really wanted to disappear. Or no - he didn't really _want_ to. He _needed_ to disappear.

***

Bodie's flat was empty. All his stuff was there - his books, his music centre, even his clothes. But on the table Doyle saw an envelope addressed to himself, and a second one addressed to Cowley.

_Ray._

_Sorry, mate, but there's no cure for itchy feet. I've stayed longer with CI5 than anywhere, but I reckon it's time for me to move on._

_Anything you can use, help yourself.'_

_I've appreciated your friendship - both on and off duty; and I'll miss it. But I know me too well. If I stayed longer you'd end up hating me. Better to quit while I'm ahead._

_Bodie_

Doyle read the short note three times, trying to see if there was any underlying meaning, especially in that last paragraph.

End up hating Bodie? How could he? As well say he'd hate himself.

Where could the daft sod go?

Doyle checked through the drawer where he knew Bodie kept important papers. Nothing was missing - not even Bodie's passport, though that meant nothing. Doyle was well aware that Bodie's mercenary contacts were still alive and still active. Unfortunately Bodie had been very close-mouthed about those contacts - Doyle had no idea how to get in touch with them.

Which, he reflected, was probably what the daft bugger was depending on.

At last he picked up the envelope for Cowley. Perhaps it shed some more light on this puzzle.

***

Cowley looked carefully at the envelope.

Doyle grinned mirthlessly. "No, I didn't steam it open," he said bluntly, aware of how tempted he had been to do just that.

Cowley grunted a reluctant acknowledgement and ripped it open, read it and tossed it to Doyle.

_Sorry, sir. Please take this as my resignation._

_If I stay longer, I'll screw up. You know what I am; Doyle doesn't. Better that he and I part as friends_

_Bodie_

Doyle looked up, frowning. "I don't get it."

Cowley looked at him. No reason now to keep quiet. "Bodie's gay, Doyle."

"What? But he's gone out with girls - he's had more girl friends... "

"And why didn't any of them last?" Cowley asked. "However, perhaps it's more accurate to say that he's at the gay end of bisexual." He sighed. "He told me a while ago that he'd fallen in love with you."

"He... what?"

"Aye. He said that'd be your reaction. Since then he's been trying to fall out of love again, settle for what he knew you could give him. Obviously it hasn't worked."

"The daft bugger... " Doyle muttered. He looked straight at Cowley. "I never said anything because it didn't seem necessary, but I'm not dead straight either."

"Sometimes I wondered."

"On your scale - I'm at the straight end of bi. It's years since I was last with a fella. Hardly even tempted. But I'll be honest, if Bodie had given me the slightest hint, I'd have welcomed it."

"He wouldn't accept pity."

"I wouldn't have given him pity."

"Then find him and tell him that."

"You wouldn't kick us out because we'd developed a thing for each other?"

Cowley shook his head. "I don't believe it's anyone's business but your own. If I know, you can't be blackmailed by anyone. As long as you're discreet - and don't let it affect your working relationship while it lasts, or afterwards if it doesn't last - I really don't care what you do in the privacy of your own homes. Bear in mind though that you work well together; and you're the only person who has ever managed to work with Bodie - so if you tried this and it didn't work out, you'll still have to work together."

Doyle grinned. "Bodie and I mostly understand each other. If we try this and it doesn't work, we'll both know - and we'll have got it out of our systems."

"And if one thinks it's a viable relationship and the other doesn't?"

"That's a bridge we'll need to cross if we come to it. But I really don't think it'll come to that. We've never doubted that we're very fond of each other. Desire is just a new addition to the mix; and desire doesn't last if satisfying it isn't particularly satisfactory."

"Aye," Cowley said. "All right, then, laddie. Find Bodie and tell him to get back here before I report him to the police as a missing person."

It was a clear dismissal.

Doyle walked out, already wondering where the devil to start looking.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting for at least four years waiting for me to think of a way to continue it, but the last sentence is an absolute reflection of my muse's thoughts on the subject.
> 
> Sometimes a story wants - needs- to be left 'up in the air', as it were. Looks like this is one such story...


End file.
